


Bait and Switch

by hawkeyesmyguy



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:03:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyesmyguy/pseuds/hawkeyesmyguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is certainly the start of something good. I mean really. It's sort of a role reversal between Clint and Natasha with Clint as a bar tender and Natasha playing as his... baby sitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bait and Switch

Natasha hurried into the seedy downtown bar, putting on a show of being nearly swept away by the frigid New York December blizzard happening outside. She had weathered far worse storms than what this city could throw at her. She brushed as much loose snow off her dark fur coat at the door as she could, her frozen blue eyes immediately assessing the room and finding that she would have everyone here eating out of the palm of her hand in moments.

But as easy as it would be to play this crowd, she had one individual to ensnare in particular. Her gaze slid over the smoky dimly lit room to the bar, the tiniest of grins tugging at the corners of her full ruby pout as she found her objective. The bartender behind the counter was laughing as he mixed drinks for a group of giggly intoxicated women, flipping his bottles up in the air and catching them behind his back adding much more flourish than necessary and suitably wowing his audience. Apparently carnival training could come in handy in more ways than Natasha could ever have anticipated.

He was dressed in simple black slacks and a black v-neck tee that was practically painted on to his broad shouldered, muscled frame. His hair was unkempt and his smile was as well, the master spy and assassin could definitely see the appeal if he really was nothing more than the flirtatious barkeep he was playing at being.

But the redhead knew better. She knew far more about Clinton Francis Barton than he ever would have cared to share with anyone, let alone with the inebriated patrons he had been serving drinks to here on a nightly basis for the past four months. The spy was on a fishing trip for her stern one-eyed director, SHIELD was more than a little interested in the man Clint Barton really was, especially with this harebrained 'Avengers' scheme Fury had had in the works the past several years. She had been brought into the secret organization for her deadly skills, and now it was her job to try and do the same with this man for the same reason.

Clint Barton had what could be politely called a 'colorful' history: orphaned at a young age, raised in a collection of abusive foster homes till settling in a less than reputable circus with his brother. That had ended... Less than well, and the man had been doing 'less than well' since then it seemed. He was a criminal, he was a fugitive... But he also had a fairly incredible set of skills that SHIELD wanted to make use of. So while recruiting wasn't exactly Natasha's strong suit, Fury knew that the Black Widow was probably the only person under his command that stood a snowball's chance in pinning this renegade down long enough to get him to consider their offer of employment. Natasha Romanov never left an assignment unfinished. She would persuade him. One way or another.

The redhead shed her thick fur coat, hanging it by the door and smiling with satisfaction at the way every eye in the bar turned to her in her elegant, drop dead sexy red evening gown that was as slinky as it was silky. Most of all she noted the way her target's sharp stormcloud eyes had tracked over to her, raking up and down her curvaceous figure because he thought she wasn't watching him. Or maybe he did and he just didn't care. It mattered little to her, since it was just her job to bring him in, not educate him in how to subtly check out gorgeous women.

Natasha glided over to the bar, holding up the tattered flyer that she had nabbed off the bulletin board outside the establishment. She gave the bartender a sultry smile, completely ignoring the poisonously jealous looks the women he'd just been charming were shooting her as she captured his full attention with her low, sensual yet understated tone of voice.

"Tonight's your open mic night, isn't that right? I'm here to follow my dreams and sing my little heart out." She said with a sly grin that let the man know the irony of her statement was not lost on her in the least.

Clint was upfront at the bar as usual, this was his nightly position until the day came to a close and the location shut down for the evening only to have it start again nearly just as quickly. He laughed whole heartedly, the sound rumbling over the roar of activity as he flirted with woman after woman deciding on who was intoxicated enough to take home but not so incapacitated that he couldn’t get anything from her. Drunk and easy was one thing but most were past that point and he was itching to get his hands on some fresh meat, someone who didn’t show up every night to do the same old thing, most these girls were frequenters and each one of them he had a few nights with, some he was more fond of than others.

He tossed the bottle in the air, catching it without looking and raising it up to pour the liquid into a glass, putting on way more of a show than he needed to but the girls always seemed to enjoy it so he kept it going, earning himself more than generous tips while he worked. His attention flickered over the shoulder of a brunette who was leaning heavily against the bar, taking up some of his space but he wasn’t worried about it. He was too busy watching the gorgeous redhead crossing the room and hanging up her coat. His night was going to be far better than he anticipated as it would seem.

The blond gave a sideways smile as he eyed her not so subtly, hardly caring if he was caught or not, hell he wanted her to know that he wanted her. She didn’t seem to mind the attention much, in fact she seemed rather used to it, and almost amused by the way that everyone else in the crowded room had been following her up to the bar with their eyes. The petite yet perfectly curvy woman approached the bar, pushing her way through a couple of the others and Clint was drawn to her, like his arrow was to the bull’s-eye. It was immediate and he decided then and there she was his new target.

The brunette who had been sitting in front of him made a gesture for her drink and he gave it a quick stir, sliding it her way on the bar as he leaned in to talk to the redhead instead. He couldn’t care less about anyone else in the room right now, “That’s right, sweetheart.” He smiled at her brightly, chuckling lightly at her comment about following her dreams. “Ain’t we all shooting for that. Takin’ a big step, you good enough and maybe the boss’ll hire you.” He encouraged.

Her smile broadened and she seemed rather eager at the option, “Got a few ahead of you, doll; can I get yah a drink while you wait?” He offered, already grabbing her a glass without asking what she wanted. “You don’t strike me as the type to order any of them fruity drinks. Vodka or scotch? Somethin’ along those lines, am I right?” He arched a brow and his attention turned to one of the other girls.

“’Ey, Des, scoot. Let the lady take a load off.” He half ordered one of his regulars who seemed a little upset she wasn’t getting any of his attention anymore. Clint quickly flashed her a sweet smile, making the woman giggle at him, “I meant to say please somewhere in there.” The woman, Desiree nodded and said something along the lines of ‘anything for her beau’ but Clint wasn’t paying her any attention, focusing on this woman before him.

“Nice to see a pretty new face around here.” He commented as he poured her a drink.

Natasha filed away every word, every mannerism, memorizing the archer's idiosyncrasies almost without thinking. She had been programmed from an early age by the Red Room to absorb every detail around her and calculate how to use what she learned to her advantage, it was what made her a master of espionage and manipulation. People gave away information for miles without ever realizing it, and Clint Barton was no exception.

It was obvious that he was extremely invested in putting on a show for the people here, though it was unclear thus far if his charming, devil may care, womanizing persona was more for their benefit or his. He was hiding, running and if he kept his current trajectory he'd crash nose first into the ground. Hopefully hanging up his bow at SHIELD hq would give all that energy an outlet. If nothing else it might give him a place he could hide from who and what he was but do something constructive in the process, just like she did.

"Vodka. Cold." She responded to his first inquiry with a little half-cocked smirk that only widened when Barton shooed one of the little starlings pecking at his feet away so she could take a seat.

She had to get closer, cleave through all this bullshit he draped around himself and get to the real Barton if she was going to have any hope in hell of recruiting him. The redhead had a pretty good idea of how to do that, and so for the moment she deemed it necessary to play into his little game. It was clear by the predatory gleam in his silver eyes that he had already made up his mind that she would be his newest conquest. His confidence in his own conclusions amused her to no end. Poor man had no idea who or what he was dealing with.

Natasha all but melted into a seated pose on the vacated bar stool, all smoky looks and fluid grace that kept his attention squarely on her. She watched impassively as he poured her a shot of the clear alcohol. It likely wasn't the best quality but she'd definitely drank worse in her time. At least he knew enough to keep his vodka bottles in the freezer and kept the ice cubes away from it. Her winter blue eyes flickered back up to his face as he slid the small glass towards her on the bar.

She picked up her shot glass and gave it's contents a delicate little sniff, she was pleasantly surprised to find it didn't have the vaguely medicinal scent of so many cheap American vodkas she'd been forced to make due with over the years. Natasha glanced back at her mark as he joked that the drink wouldn't bite her, calling her sweetheart yet again and filling her with the impulse to break him in half over the bar between them and show him how 'sweet' she really was.

Not a drop of violent intent crossed her features however, and she laughed delicately before taking the shot and tapping the glass rim down on the bar in a little show of triumph, not batting an eyelash at the burn of the liquor going down her throat. Good vodka was smooth and this certainly wasn't, but again, she'd had far worse.

Clint was finally pestered into refilling another patron's drink and she looked him up and down again up close, echoing her sentiment about the vodka in terms of the muscular archer before her. He might be an asshole, but she wouldn't mind doing more than just breaking him atop the bar counter...

The redhead smirked at the thought and nodded when he offered to pour her another, noting with some satisfaction that nearly all the jealous bees that had been buzzing around him when she first arrived had backed off, perhaps they sensed that as long as Natasha was around none of them stood a chance at recapturing his attention.

"Your boss is looking for a more permanent act, hmm? I could certainly use the gig." She mused as she took her second shot. Normally Natasha liked to sip and savor her liquor but this stuff wasn't quality enough for anything other than a quick flick of the wrist.

Clint grinned at the redhead sitting across the slim bar from him as he put on a little less of a show for her while he poured her drink. She hardly seemed like she cared to watch his antics to start so he didn’t up the extra effort in, perhaps this one could hold a conversation even after he got a few shots in her. He slid the glass over to her with a smile on his lips. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stated in response to it being cold.

He eyed her the entire time, the roar of those surrounding seemed to drown out as he zoned in on her completely. She was his new target and his sights were on lock, this was the one he wanted to bring home next and with the glances she exchanged with him there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would. She sniffed at her glass and he smiled once more, “Not gonna bite, sweetheart.” He teased, wiping down the counter before leaning against it on his hands.

His eye brows raised as she tossed back the entirety of the liquid. “Impressive.” He complimented with a little laugh, making her smile in return. She clearly knew what she was doing, to him and in regards to her drink. He could see her gaze raking over him in return and he made a little show as he leaned heavily over the counter, biceps flexing and offering her another round to which she accepted while the other women departed.

“From what I hear, yea.” He answered her question. “And he and I are on good terms, think I could put in a good word for yah if you play your cards right.” He smiled at her, tossing the rag back over his shoulder and watching her toss the second back once more. “Pace yourself there, sweetheart.” He warned, “Don’t wanna watch you fall off stage with no one there to catch you.” He stated but poured her a third anyways.

 

Natasha smirked at Barton's comment, she knew from the shadowing she'd been doing on the man prior to revealing herself to him that he was anything but on good terms with his employer. His scumbag of a boss only tolerated his smartass bartender because of all the recent female clientele he had brought in.

"I'm afraid I don't play cards, but with any luck my singing will... Speak for itself." The redhead winked at her own silly wordplay, smiling slightly as he poured her another shot even as he warned her to pace herself. She was still a ridiculously long way from her limits, so a third drink wasn't going to phase her, but she refrained from drinking it for another reason. 

Natasha took the shot glass and held it up between their faces which had grown steadily closer together, arching a delicate scarlet brow as she considered the clear liquid and his silver eyes beyond it. "I don't need anyone there to catch me. If I fall, I pick myself back up." She told him in a soft tone. The redhead held the cup out to his lips, silently bidding him to drink and he did so. The archer couldn't quite keep from coughing a bit from the burn of the alcohol but he managed well enough. It pleased her that he followed her prompting, but she knew he only did so because he believed it would get him a step closer to his goal of conquering her.

The DJ announced that the open mic tryouts were about to begin, the lights in the room dimmed further and a spotlight illuminated the small stage at the back of the bar where the lonely microphone stand awaited anyone brave enough or foolish enough to join it. Clint tossed his chin at the stage, wishing her luck and telling her to break a leg with a sly little smile.

I'll only resort to limb-breaking if I have to, circus boy Natasha thought with a devilish grin as she stood and sauntered over to the stage. She whispered to the DJ that she'd like to give it a shot, holding back a laugh as she recalled Coulson's advice to her to pay the owner off to ensure she got this gig. He obviously hadn't heard her sing.

The redhead took the floor and almost instantly a hush fell over the normally raucous establishment. From the first note Natasha sang to the last, she commanded the entire room with her sultry presence. Her deep, dark chocolate and velvet voice permeated the air in a more tangible way than the cigarette smoke hanging visible about the patrons, and there was no doubt in the spy's mind that she had landed the job.

But then again, she'd known going in she'd get the singing gig no problem. The real job was going to be getting to Barton, the real Barton. And that was only just beginning. 

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart.” Clint quipped, smiling at the little wink she gave to him. He poured her yet another round and much to his surprise she took stuck it between them and waited. He took her silent invitation and poured himself a shot as well, sticking his glass out and nodding in her direction, tipping his glass in silent toast as she spoke. He took the cup and pressed it to his lips, tossing it back only he wasn’t so good at taking down vodka like she seemed to be.

He coughed at the burn of the alcohol no matter how much he tried to fight it back. She smirked at his reaction and he gave a little chuckle, nodding his head when the DJ called her up. “That’s your cue there, doll.” He pointed out, tossing his head to the stage as he put away the vodka they were drinking together for a little later when she was off stage. “Break a leg out there. I’ll be watchin’.” He said with a sideways grin.

She gave him a little smile of her own as if to say she wasn’t too worried about her talent. He however needed to see it himself to confirm she was good enough, not that he cared really, if it were up to him, he would keep her around just for the eye candy. She could sure as shit draw in a crowd with a single sway of those shapely hips. He absently licked his lips, watching her walk up to the side of the stage and take the couple steps up.

She certainly didn’t disappoint, the sound of her voice was enough to make every man weak in the knees, even Clint Barton who never let himself fawn over anyone in his entire life. Perhaps this one he would fight for, should the situation call for it. The smooth sound to her voice and the way she moved on stage got him going, or maybe had him imagining the only thing falling from those lips were his name followed by ragged cries of pleasure he wrung from her directly.

Natasha had won over more than ¾ of the patrons in the bar, whistling and begging for more. She gave a playful bite to her bottom lip and shushed her audience with a finger to her full pout and the sound of her shushing them drew an involuntary growl from Clint’s lips. She was staring at him, even over the crowd of people and he gave her an encouraging smile, waving a tiny shot glass in the air to indicate the promise of another round if she got her ass back down to the bar. He wanted her, for himself. Clint Barton wasn’t the type to share not until after he had staked his claim and had his way with her would he offer her up to the hungry wolves.

She seemed to get his cue, singing a second song and when someone asked for one more she gave the sweetest pout, apologizing for not being able to hog the stage when there were others wishing to audition. The redhead handed over the mic and a few disappointed audience members tried to stop her as she made her way back through the crowded room to the bar where Clint was. “Well, I stand corrected, Red. Guess this calls for a shot on the house huh? I’ll put in a good word for y’. Wouldn’t mind seein’ you up there every night.”

Natasha smiled coquettishly and accepted the congratulatory shot Barton poured her, raising her glass in thanks. She downed it just as smoothly as she had the first few he'd given her before her songs, setting the little cup rim down on the bar like she had with the others.

From everything Natasha had observed of her mark thus far, she knew now was the moment when he would start feeding her lines, working his angles and trying to convince her to come home with him for the night. She certainly could have fun with this one, he was very attractive and seemed like he could hold his own with her. But she was very much a work before pleasure kind of girl and while she wasn't unfamiliar with using her body as a tool to accomplish her goals, if she slept with him now she risked losing her hold on him. She had to keep his attention long enough to get more detailed information about him, make sure offering him a place with SHIELD was a profitable venture. She had to keep him wanting for now.

"Is that so? Well I guess I should thank you then." Natasha leaned further over the bar, letting her full lips brush lightly over Barton's scruffy cheek, he turned his face in to meet her but she pulled away just in time, avoiding the contact by just a breath.

"I'll see you around, if I get that call back about the gig anyway..." She murmured. Not giving him a chance to speak she stood and made her way back to the door and donned her coat. The redhead turned and looked back, grinning with satisfaction as she saw just the stunned and ravenous look on her target's face she'd hoped to inspire.

Natasha held his gaze for a long moment, then turned on her heel and left as quickly as she had arrived. Her hooks definitely in, now it was time to reel in her fish. If she was totally honest with herself, she was rather hoping he might put up a bit of a fight, she hadn't had a real challenge for quite some time.

The next week just as planned, the spy took a cab from her hotel to her first evening as the bar's new nightingale. She was dressed in a silky black number and heels that made her legs look miles long, her fiery curls hanging loose down her back with a simple pair of pearl studs as her only jewelry. She knew she didn't need much embellishment. 

She had the taxi driver drop her off a block from the bar, the short walk giving her time to check in with her handler and update him on her progress. Natasha had the sense that she was being followed as she made her way up the street, all her senses on high alert as she entered the bar. Barton wasn't at his usual post behind the bar and her delicate brow furrowed.

Natasha got herself set up on stage, carefully maintaining her cover while growing steadily more concerned with Barton's absence and the strange sense she'd had coming in tonight. She wasn't the only one here that needed to watch her back after all.

She grabbed a waitress's arm before she had to get started, asking the petite brunette if she'd seen their erstwhile bartender. The woman said no, that he hadn't called off, but it wasn't like him to just not show up. Natasha nodded, her professional gaze sweeping the room and not getting a single red flag. She worried her full lower lip with her teeth, claiming she needed a moment to collect herself before she started and slipped out the side exit into the dark, dirty alleyway along side the bar. She was following a hunch that she hoped was wrong, but the spy's instincts were rarely incorrect. If she had been able to track Clint down here, maybe someone else had too.

The redhead sighed when her suspicions were almost immediately confirmed the second she stepped outside. There was her target, being held against the wall and ruthlessly beaten by two men while the other two kept him pinned. There were three more sprawled on the ground as well, so he had put up a decent fight at least before succumbing to the seven to one odds.

Her full lips curled up and she silently slipped closer, drawing the small handheld version of her Widow's Sting she had holstered to her thigh beneath her slinky dress. She came up behind the much larger man wailing on Barton's face, lodging her device into the base of the man's neck and downing him almost instantly with the weapon's powerful electric shock. Before the man beside him had time to process what had befallen his comrade, she landed a solid kick to his knee, blowing the joint out causing him to buckle and bring his head within range of a devastating downward blow from her elbow.

The men that had been holding Barton down scrambled to react to this new threat, both drawing guns. The archer took the opportunity to assault the man to his left, landing several hard hits despite the fact that he was barely managing to stay standing himself. Natasha electrocuted her third mark as he fumbled to aim his weapon at her, kicking it out of his reach on the ground and spinning to quickly dispatch the man fighting Barton.

The sandy blonde archer sagged heavily against the wall, it was difficult to tell exactly how coherent he was, his face was pretty banged up and his breathing was labored. Natasha hurried to his side, helping him slowly slide down the wall to sit on the ground and crouching before him. "Easy, easy. Can you hear me? I'm going to call an ambulance, just hang in there okay?" She said in a soothing tone, her experienced eye appraising his condition. He tried to respond but slipped into unconsciousness, making her smirk. He was definitely worked over but nothing life threatening. Maybe these men were just thugs, not tied up in his sordid past somehow. She'd have to find out.

She made the call and within moments the alley was alight with wailing sirens and flashing lights of emergency vehicles. The redhead gave her statement to the police, playing the part of frightened passerby perfectly, explaining that she'd used her taser on the men out of panic. Little did the authorities know how easily she could have killed all those men but didn't simply to keep up appearances. After her shift, she went immediately to the hospital to check on her mark.

The fact that visiting hours were over meant little to the assassin, she easily made it to his room, a recovery suite he shared with a few others, each bed surrounded by an off-white curtain for a little privacy. He was sleeping, looking peaceful despite the bruising, swollen eye and stitches across his cheekbone and brow. She shook her head and smirked as she looked over his chart, mild concussion and a couple cracked ribs. This one certainly attracted trouble, she thought idly that he would be amused if he knew he was hampering her job by getting beat up like this.

Clint was shocked by the redhead’s quick departure the first night they met and it was days before he saw her again, only this time it hadn’t been under any circumstances that he had expected to run into her.

He was just making it in to work when half a dozen guys decided to draw him out, keeping him from getting inside the bar like he needed to. He was all for trying to talk himself out of a situation if he thought he could, agreeing to ‘having a little chat’ out behind the bar. He knew in the back of his mind that things would go south and fast and his inclinations had been correct. Little to no words were spoken when a fight suddenly erupted and one man made the attempt at knocking Clint upside the head. A pathetic move when fighting an unarmed man on his own outnumbered by seven.

He spun on his heel and threw an elbow in his attackers direction only to be grabbed by a second as soon as the first took the blow. The blond grunted and fought against the larger man’s hold, out smarting him with a pinch to his wrist, hitting the pressure points and making him release his arm. Clint drew back, throwing all he had into a kick to the second’s ribs, taking punch to his jaw from a third then a fourth. He tumble backwards into the wall spitting blood as he scrambled up right once more, running his tongue along his red stained teeth, gathering it up and spitting in the face of one of his attackers.

The man he spat at made a disgusted noise, his eyes squeezing shut and Clint reached for a stray metal pipe near the trash compactor, drawing it up from the ground and using the blunt instrument to take a few down. He bashed in the head of one, slapped another across the jaw and drew back for one more solid hit but he wasn’t quick enough, two of the larger remaining men grabbed one of each of his arms, walking him back and slamming him into the brick wall. A third, blood splattered face and all gathered himself enough to deliver.

Clint took blow after blow from a mix of fists and the metal pipe and he gave in to them, letting them do as they pleased and willing it to be over quick. He was slowly slipping into the darkness as he was brutally beaten, no defenses left. Suddenly he heard one man wail and drop to his knees in seconds and for a moment Barton thought he might have another situation on his hands. His eyes fluttered and he saw a flash of red hair, the other man that previously was beating on him dropped, taking the woman’s elbow to the face. Clint struggled to process who she was, remember how he knew her and it clicked, his pretty little lounge singer with the sultry voice and the killer thighs.

Maybe he was dead already, maybe he only saw who he wanted to see. The woman took out the third man and Clint finally slid down the wall, his eyes falling closed and he egged on the blissful sweet darkness. He coughed, pressing his hand to his aching ribcage and feeling the pain all over his bruised body. She drew away the final attacker and he slumped to the ground completely, flickering his gaze up to who was in front of him suddenly. He tensed at her touch but the familiar voice processed and his vision cleared enough to confirm what he had been seeing was real. He nodded his head, or he thought he did, opening his mouth to tell her a response but he tilted forward and his eyes closed again, blood dripping from his mouth and nose and the gash along his head and cheek. Finally he succumbed to unconsciousness.

He didn’t remember waking in the ambulance much only the brunette male that was tending to him and starting his IV on the drive. Clint didn’t come to complete awareness for hours after they had him cleaned up and patched over. He stirred, groaning in pain from the movement and the mix of pain meds they had injected into him to help. They made him groggy and his mouth dry, eyes fluttering opened and the same redhead stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed over her chest and hip jutted out to one side. She was virtually untouched, glancing down at him as he blinked up at her. “Am I still pretty?” He questioned with a laugh, eyes hooded from exhaustion and strain on his body.

“I saw you—Saw you save my ass.” He muttered, hardly able to speak but managing well enough that she could hear him. There was something about her and he knew it from their first meeting but now his questioning was different. How the hell could a normal woman know how to knock out four guys like that, not to mention ones that were nearly triple her size and double her height. “Takes a special kinda gal t’ do what you did.” He pointed out, arching his untattered brow. “Care t' share with the class how you got me outta there?” He questioned.

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and snickered at Barton's question, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and cocking her opposite hip. He questioned her actions in the alley and she drew her full lower lip between her teeth. So he had managed to stay coherent enough to realize it was she who had come to his aid. No matter. She could work with that.

"I guess I'll take that as a thank you Barton." She responded, moving from the foot of his bed to stand at his side, taking the cup of ice chips the nurse had left off the bedside table and tipping it gingerly against his swollen lip so he could take a few to wet his throat at least. He accepted gratefully, forgetting for a second that he hadn't gotten the answer to his first question and asking her how she knew his name.

"It's on your chart handsome." She teased, he didn't need to know that she'd known his name far longer than that, not yet. He chuckled and nodded, staring up at her with those intense silver eyes. The redhead gave him a few more ice chips and straightened, smoothing the wrinkles from her midnight gown and tsking at the torn seam in her dress that made the already perilously high slit over her left thigh completely indecent.

She chuckled inwardly as Barton's eyes were drawn immediately to the generous view of her leg and she cleared her throat softly to get his attention back on her face. Natasha highly doubted he even remembered she hadn't addressed her actions in the alley yet. But to his credit, the archer pressed her again for an explanation and she sighed.

"It's not all sunshine and roses where I come from Tiger." She quipped, smoothly extracting her mini electroshock weapon and flashing it at him just long enough for him to register what type of device it was but not enough for him to notice it wasn't just a run of the mill taser. "When the world knocks you down, you can either die in the dirt like a dog, or stand back up. Get in a few licks of your own." She said with complete seriousness, the corner of her full pout tugging up. Nothing she said was a lie, but she hadn't given away anything real, either. It was a delicate dance and Natasha knew all the steps.

He seemed to accept her explanation, at least for now, thanking her in earnest for her help. Natasha shrugged. "If you want to thank me, you can pay to have my dress mended." She said in a more businesslike tone, gathering her things off the chair by his bed and shrugging her fur coat on. "Rest up. I'll see you at work tomorrow night... Hopefully behind the bar this time, not being assaulted in the back alley." She added with a little snicker, disappearing through the curtain.


End file.
